The Path of the Damned
by Lani Lenore
Summary: The beginning of a novelization that never got very far. It's a nice beginning though. Perhaps I'll finish it one day.
1. Brief Notes on The Path of the Damned

Here are a few brief notes on this:  
  
This is going to be a novelization, but like the summary said, it will have a bit more to it than what was in the game. The game was wonderful, but to me, there was not enough to the plot. So, here we have it.  
  
Lovers of blood, violence, dark humor, action, and sexuality will like this fic, whether you've played the game or not.  
  
I am a firm believer that the Devil May Cry story is dark, deep, evil, and sexual and that is exactly how I intend to portray it.  
  
That said, please enjoy the story. Please review if you read and fair warning that I'm writing this pretty much for the sake of having a novelization for myself (since I can't find one) but all comments are appreciated to make this the best it can be.  
  
Thanks you for reading!  
  
~Lani Lenore~ 


	2. Prologue

_According to legend, 2000 years ago, when snow was falling on a clear, freezing night on earth, a fierce devil prince was born deep in the darkest pit of the netherworld…_

_He grew rapidly. Within a short time he gained his full powers and took over the devil throne. His first act as ruler of all devils was to declare himself emperor of the devil kingdom. His next feat was an invasion of the human world. His plan was to conquer it and rule over both the upper and lower realms._

_But a powerful devil-knight known as Sparda took pity on humans for their brief, transient lives. In fierce battles he defeated all the Devil ruler's armies and finally imprisoned the emperor himself in a sealed vault._

_Having achieved his victory, Sparda abandoned the Devil Kingdom to live in the human world. He eventually married a human woman and soon after fathered two sons – half devil, half human. Sparda ruled the human world quietly until his death._

_After 2000 years, the cursed Devil Emperor will again be strong enough to break free from his prison and will no doubt return to invade the human world once more. With the Legendary Knight Sparda gone, there will be no one to stop his terror..._

_All humanity shall fall, for the power is too great for a mortal mind and strength to overcome._

– From _Devil World History_ (age unknown)

housed in the **Library of Forbidden Books**

_**Devil May Cry **_

_**Path of the Damned**_

_**Prologue**_

The apartment building was quiet tonight. The hallways were empty and dark, the full moon casting the only light on the shabby interior. Enzo Ferino pushed the button that would take him to the fifth floor, silently wondering what he was really doing living in a run-down place like this. Honestly, if his father's car dealership hadn't gone under, there was no way in _hell_ he'd be living like this – in a trashy "castle" subject to slum lord rule on the wrong side of town. Still, he saw plenty of interesting things around these parts and kept a close ear on the inside stories. In his business, such information was an advantage.

The elevator with the three burnt out floor numbers came to a halt in the shaft before him and the doors slid open easily. He stepped inside, cradling the bottle of Jack Daniels he'd been out to get on this clear night. Enveloped in a paper bag, Enzo could still feel the temperature of the glass bottle on his skin, for it had been chilled by the night air. It gave him a sort of eerie feeling – in fact, he'd felt this way all night.

His feelings were never wrong. Something was afoot

Whether or not it would involve him, he was unsure, but there was something in the air – something wicked. He sighed as the elevator began to move. Being a mercenary, one had to watch out for himself – train himself to keep an eye on everything and anything that could possibly happen. The business was dangerous, especially when on a job, and one false move could mean bloody death. He'd learned all this in the past two years that he'd been working these miscellaneous jobs, yet tonight all he could feel was _something_ in the air – something he couldn't put his finger on.

He leaned against the elevator wall as it came to a halt at the second floor. It seemed that someone else wished to join him for the pleasant ride.

_Right. Pleasant my ass._

It seemed like it was taking forever to get to his room on the fifth floor, as though the elevator was moving two or three times slower than ever before. Now someone else was boarding. At this rate, it would be even longer before he could lock his apartment door and indulge in his liquor.

_Ding._

The doors of the elevator shaft slid open once more to allow entrance to another passenger besides himself. Enzo barely lifted his eyes at first, uninterested in who would be joining him, but he became curious quite quickly when he saw her.

The woman stepped forward into the elevator beside him, smelling of a spicy scent that filled his nostrils and intoxicated his senses. He was curious, yet feeling cautious. He'd never seen this woman here before –

– and he would have remembered if he had

The woman was lovely to behold with long blond hair past her waist and a slender body to match the prototype of the perfect woman. Her body was shapely and clad in leather, though not enough to keep him from peering across her pale skin of cream and wishing suddenly that he'd shaved before he left his apartment. Across her perfect nose, a pair of dark sunglasses sat to cover her eyes. The woman was beautiful; she was just as or perhaps more perfect than any pin-up that graced his wall and now he found himself curious about her beyond turning. Where had this woman come from? He swallowed his particular feeling of malice for this night as he searched his mind for anything he could say to get some information about her.

"You from around here?" he asked dumbly, trying to take in information with common chit-chat.

"No," she said in a smooth voice that was firm in tone.

She didn't bother turning her shaded eyes to him, simply staring at the front door of the elevator as though she was interesting in leaping out as soon as it stopped. Dark shadows passed across her face in the dimly lit shaft, giving her an almost inhuman look of perfection. Enzo had almost decided to not venture further, but his curiosity led him on, pulling him into territory that he wondered if he would regret.

"So, where _are_ ya' from?"

Her face was expressionless as she turned towards him, the yellow light above reflecting off her black lens as she parted her red lips.

"From hell," she said simply, turning back away.

A nervous laugh escaped his lips and he had to admit that it sounded strange in his own ears, but the woman's humor had taken him by surprise. Her voice was dry, and the comment wasn't too funny, but the spontaneous nature of her words struck him enough to conjure a laugh.

"Amen to that," he said, thinking of the shit-town that he called_ his_ home, but he supposed there could be worse places – at least according to her there was.

He felt the elevator slowing again, coming close to the fifth floor. He felt relief come over him as he knew that soon he would be at his door, out of the strangeness of the night. Enzo was no chicken, but he knew when to be cautious.

The woman beside him glanced up at the numbers over the door as they lit up, and she watched as the forth floor was passed and the elevator slowed to stop on the fifth.

"This your floor?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, finding that his voice almost sounded grateful to be back home, but still wondering about this woman and regretting that he hadn't gotten to spend more time in her mysterious company.

He directed his attention away from her for a moment and looked down at his hands to get a better grip on the bottle there. He tugged on his coat collar and prepared to hear the sound overhead that summoned the door to open, but instead, he heard a different noise… It sounded like a machine shutting down; then he finally realized that it was the elevator that had stopped, yet the doors were not opening.

He cast his eyes to the strange woman and saw that she had her finger on the emergency button that locked down the elevator.

_Shit, and I didn't even see it coming. She's after me? Great, and I don't even have a gun on me…_

"Are you Ferino?" she asked, turning abruptly to face him.

He raised a defensive eyebrow, his blue eyes tracing for a possible escape.

"Who wants to know?" he asked.

The woman laughed – the sound was a cold hiss in his ears. She ran a hand over her shoulder to knock her light hair back from her face.

"Relax," she said. "None of this concerns you – unless, of course, you refuse to cooperate and give me the wrong answers."

He was silent a moment, considering his options, which appeared to be very few. He decided quickly that cooperation would be in his best interest – for now at least.

"I'm Enzo Ferino," he confirmed.

"You are a mercenary, correct?" she asked, leaning back against the closed elevator doors.

"Yeah."

The woman crossed her arms in front of her ample breast, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Ever heard of a man named Dante? I believe he's in your business."

Enzo's stomach tightened at the mention of this name. Yeah, he knew a man named Dante, but was it the Dante she was looking for? The Dante he knew was dangerous. No man in his right mind would fuck with him. He found himself torn. This woman might kill him, but if he gave out information about Dante that wasn't supposed to be said, he was as good as dead anyway.

"There are a lot of guys in my business," he said, veering from the direction of her questioning.

The woman smiled more at him, though he got a bad feeling from it. Something wasn't right…

In an instant, the woman was on his side of the elevator, grabbing his throat with a firm hand and the back of his head hit the wall harshly from the force of her sudden grip.

"Jesus!" he yelled, feeling the awesome strength in her fingers alone.

She pulled her face closer to his, bringing her voice low and menacing.

"Don't try this shit with me!" she threatened, pinching his throat slightly. "You know him, don't you?"

Enzo tried to suck in breath, but she saw his efforts and squeezed his wind pipe shut quickly, allowing him only an ounce of air at once. _He was going to die if she kept this up! _He supposed he had no choice; he was going to have to tell her what she wanted to know. He nodded in cooperation and she released the pipe, but not his throat entirely. After sucking in a deep breath, he was ready to talk.

"Yeah, I know him. He's tough, that's for damn sure. I seen him take on a dozen guys at once one time. He took them all out and walked away without a scratch."

"So, he's good?' she asked.

"He don't raise an eyebrow for nothin' – not even when a bullet grazes his nose." He took a pause to look her up and down. "Maybe for you though, honey."

Her face bore no expression at his words, but Enzo was telling the honest truth. Maybe he just wasn't telling her what she was looking for. He searched for what it could be, but without view of her eyes he was at loss.

"What else can you tell me?" she asked suddenly, releasing her death grip on his jugular.

"He's always been distant," Enzo said, massaging his sore neck. "Nobody really _knows_ him, only been acquainted. Nobody knows anything about his past – or even that much about his present. One thing's for sure: he's a weird one."

"And what does _that_ mean?" she inquired.

"He's into demon hunting," Enzo paused to laugh. "He won't take a job if he doesn't like it – not even for a pile of C notes up to the ceiling. But you show him a ghost hunt or devil purification and he's on it like a snake on a mouse. He'll take the job even if it's a rumor – and he'll take it whether or not there's a reward."

"Why do you think he does it?"

This question threw him off briefly, sounding more like a personal curiosity than a demand for vital information. He figured he may as well answer the lady.

"No idea. Some say for the challenge. Some others say…"

Enzo trailed off then, wondering if the theory was even too stupid to mention. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but there were others that were completely convinced.

"What do they say?" the woman asked.

He sighed before speaking.

"Well, rumor says blue blood may be runnin' through that guy's veins, if ya know what I mean."

"Devil blood?" she asked, seeming to ponder it herself.

"That's what they say."

"Hmmm," she said thoughtfully after a pause. "He sounds like the man I'm looking for. Tell me, where can I find him?"

"Hey, I'm not lookin' to get the guy screwed!" Enzo said, holding up his hands in protest. "He never loses… _never_! And he'd kill _me_ after he finished you."

"You have my word that those things will not happen," she assured him.

That wasn't good enough for Enzo.

"How can you promise that? I know Dante better than I know you, and personally I think rattin' the guy out is the wrong choice."

He couldn't tell, but the woman's eyes seemed to light up in fury behind her glasses. He remembered how fast she had clenched his throat the first time, and he swore that when she jerked her hand towards him again it was even faster. Before the thought of a counter attack could register in his mind, he found himself clenched at the throat once more, struggling to suck in breath past her supernatural grip.

"Alright, lady, shit!" he exclaimed, wrenching away from her, but only at her consent.

Enzo was ready to get away. Anything he could do to get out of here and away from this woman… He pointed a finger at the elevator door.

"You leave here and head straight down the street in front of the building. You can't miss the place. His place of business – calls it Devil May Cry."

The woman released him once more, pushing a slender finger into the elevator button, completely ignoring the mercenary now; she was done with him. He sighed in relief as the elevator again began to move, hoping for the sanctity of his room once more. Something bad would happen tonight and he didn't want to have any part of it.

The doors slid open and the woman stepped out in front of him and into the long hallway. Enzo fumbled with his keys, letting the moonlight from the window at the end of the hallway aid him, though it didn't do too much good. The woman took a few steps down the hall, and then turned back to the shuffling man beside his door.

"Thanks," she said, then turned away again. "I hope you aren't a liar."

Enzo tried to find the correct key to fit the lock, but soon heard a pounding sound against the hall floor that stole his attention away. Lifting his eyes, he was surprised to see the woman, barreling down the hallway as fast as she could go. What was she doing? She would run into the wall! He watched her in curiosity, picking up speed as she ran, finally getting to the open window. Before he could protest, the woman pushed herself up into the frame and jumped straight out of the fifth story window.

Enzo dropped his keys in astonishment. _What?_ In frozen curiosity he walked to the window. He hadn't heard the woman's body hit the ground. He had to know if she made it. But how could she have? There was no way; not by simply leaping as she did.

Peering out the open window into the cool night air, Enzo stared down at the street and saw nothing. There was no woman, and no evidence that she had even been there. He stared in disbelief at the pavement below. Where had she gone? She had just been there… or had she been there at all? Surely he had not just imagined it… right?

He glanced down at the bottle in the brown sack in his hand. Opening his fingers, he let the bottle hit the floor and roll away only slightly through the friction of the bag. He shook his head. That was it, he decided. No more liquor for Enzo Ferino.


	3. Chapter 1

**_Chapter One_**

The woman in the picture smiled, staring out with blank, paper eyes from the glass frame on the desk. Aside from the rest of the room's adornments, this picture looked painfully out of place, set against the hostile atmosphere filled with smoke and loud music that rattled the windows. In fact, the 5x8 of the blond woman's face seemed the only presentable memento gracing this old building.

The wallpaper was torn and dirty, anointed with head mounts of the most curious sorts. There, the heads of many a strange beast were displayed, each dying the wallpaper with its own blood. Crooked, wicked-looking daggers and swords protruded forth from the mouths of the heads, themselves covered in the dried blood of the beasts. These blades were the ones that destroyed the demons on the wall – that's why they were included in his trophies.

In the corner sat a drum set, untouched for months, proof of a long leave of absence. Behind the cluttered desk were several pin-ups. Voluptuous women in welcoming poses, exposed flesh in leather and chains, plastered carelessly in tilted public view.

The desk, the center of all activity in this run down ex-strip club, was littered with beer cans, empty pizza boxes, and newspaper clippings – new and old. Little had been remodeled in this place: the liquor racks and stripper pole were still standing proof. The desk sat close to the wall and left a lot of open space in the main room. In the back was a small bathroom and room that held a bed and not much else. The place was unconventional for a home, but perfect for when he brought female company over. Then again, he didn't spend too much time here anyway.

An old phone, stained with blood and smelling of alcohol sat quietly on the edge of the desk...and in the center sat the picture.

He quite liked his set-up actually. It was a bit repulsing to the common eye, but it suited him perfectly. The kind of people who ventured here didn't care about his dark tastes; they only cared about his skill. He was the best – his trophies proved it. So few demon hunters understood the demonic mind as he did.

He sighed and let a hand run through his colorless hair. His eyes fell across the picture in front of him. His rough exterior always seemed to fade away at the sight of it. He still remembered her loving smile – _warm eyes… soft, nurturing hands…_ No other woman in his life had ever gotten to him as she did.

_What would you think… mother… if you could see me now…?_

He shook his head.

_No Dante… Not now… not this. You've worked too hard._

Pulling his attention abruptly away from the picture was the phone's ringing to his left, covered by the top half of an empty pizza box. The ringing blended briefly with the loud music, but he didn't bother to turn it down when he answered.

"Devil May Cry," he answered, stating his company name into the receiver.

After a moment of silence on his part, listening to the rambling on the other line from the hotel nearby, complaining about his unrestrained blasting of Rob Zombie from the mounted speakers, he smiled.

"Sorry," he said casually. "We closed at nine."

He slammed down the phone and picked up an almost emptied beer can. Today had been a long one, and now it was finally over. He could sit back, enjoy his music, and consider tomorrow. He'd just returned from a long job and was looking forward to a few days of rest before taking up anything else.

The sensuous growl of a motorcycle engine reached his ears from outside. Ah, motorcycles… Aside from weapons and women, motorcycles would have to be his third passion. His own model sat outside, blood red, just matching his favorite overcoat – his work clothes. Dante sighed, the careless thoughts running through him as he leaned his head back to relax and propped his feet up.

He let the music pound away at his eardrums. Let the sound try to do what damage it could; his hearing was better than perfect. The hands of the Budweiser clock above his head ticked away as the sounds of the motorcycle outside grew louder. He leaned up a bit, considering if it was just his imagination. No. It was definitely getting louder… _and faster…_

He listened carefully, placing his elbows on the desk. Still the engine came on strong, roaring as it came close to his door. Though he was curious about what was going on out there, he was not worried in the slightest. It wasn't in him to worry.

In a deafening roar and a shattering of glass and wood, the motorcycle crashed through the locked doors of Devil May Cry, coming to a screeching halt in front of the desk. The cycle had simply crashed right through – _his_ cycle. Atop the bike rode a leather-clad blonde with a long slender body worthy infinite praise.

"Whoa!" he said with a laugh. "Slow down, babe!"

One would think that a thing like this would upset him. When, actually, he looked quite thrilled. Dante smiled as the woman dismounted the bike. Her hair hung a foot above her knees, her body partially concealed with a midriff bodice that presented adequate shoulder skin and crept down across her breast creating cleavage that would make a grown man gasp in excitement. Her pants were of black leather and tight, accented by a clunky belt and five inch boot heels. Across her face, set off by luscious ruby red lips, was a pair of dark shades – even though it was night. Woman of his dreams? Yeah right. It was _too_ good to be true.

He had not even flinched when the impact was made. He was all too used to this sort of thing… He watched as she peered around the room without words. He could feel the presence in her already. It was a shame, a damn shame! _A demon_… her fate was already sealed the second she stepped foot in here. She had come to kill him? He'd just play it by ear.

The woman traced her eyes over the mounted heads, placing her hands on her flawless hips. He watched her a moment, a humorous smile on his face.

"Nature calls?" he asked, smirking at his own joke. "It's in the back."

"You the handyman?" she asked casually, ignoring his comment and not bothering to make eye contact, but staring at his wall of trophies.

He smiled wider at her observation.

"That'd be me," he confirmed. "You know, you could have at least knocked. Then again, you obviously didn't think twice about stepping foot in here."

"You are _him_," she stated abruptly, staring at him now, taking a step closer. "Are you not?"

Dante stood up from the desk, staring into the sunglasses that shielded her eyes.

"Depends," he said. "Depends on who you_ think_ I am."

At this, she smiled, taking a few steps closer to the desk. She leaned forward and put her hands on the desk, smiling up at him, allowing his view down her bodice to increase.

"You're the half-breed," she said. "Son of a mortal woman…and of the legendary demon warrior, Sparda."

Dante considered her knowledge, but supposed it was nothing unusual. It was perhaps not too hard to know that he was to son of Sparda, demon, but ruler of the human world for many years. He'd fallen in love with a human woman and only a few short years after she bore his children, he passed away. Dante had not been too close to the warrior of humanity, but he had felt his heritage every day of his life…

"You are him, aren't you, Mister Dante?' she asked, her voice filled with honey.

"I wouldn't have you think otherwise," he said. "What about you? Who sent you here? Here to take your shot at me like so many others?" He smiled then, his eyes leering. "Here to dance?"

Dante pulled his sword from where it stuck in the wall nearby. The blade was long and true – a memento of his father.

Instead of answering his questions, the gorgeous demon treaded on with her knowledge, pushing at him further.

"You lost a mother and a brother to mercenaries of the Underworld twenty years ago, when you were only five… and now you're a demon hunter. A damn good one, too. Best in the business. I hear you'll take any dirty job, correct?"

A bit of fury kindled inside his eyes at this. Bringing up such things would only get her killed quicker. Sure, that had happened, and no, he hadn't forgotten about it. His whole profession revolved around his revenge… His countenance lightened suddenly.

"Almost," he said. "I only take "special" jobs. _If_ you know what I mean."

"Very funny," she said flatly, but not before letting her eyes cast downward. "Now back to your résumé."

"Well, the way I see it," he began, coming around the desk and coming close to the woman. "In this business a lot of your kind comes around and if I kill each one that comes, eventually I'll hit the jackpot sooner or later."

He pointed his sword at her chest, the tone of his voice turning menacing. She hadn't brought anything worth his while. Now she would die. _What a waste of good body_.

Despite his threat, the woman didn't show interest in a fight. She simply stood, staring back at him – smiling.

"Well," she said finally – _sugary_. "Then you should be used to this sort of thing."

She moved slowly, raising her hand. He saw nothing intimidating about it. What was the worst she could possibly do? To his sudden surprise, she grasped the blade of his sword, the edge cutting her hand, but she didn't seem to notice. From her arm shot forth a powerful yellow energy that pulsated into the blade, and in turn struck him before he had the chance to free himself.

He lurched back in agony, feeling the power seeping through him. He yelled out in his pain, but she held him there with the power. With a forceful lunge, she knocked him backwards into the desk with such force that it broke in half, the pain in his back excruciating as the picture frame fell to the floor and shattered.

The woman took hold of Dante's blade and before the man had the chance to rise, heaved it like a harpoon into his chest with perfect aim. The blood spurted forth as the sword pushed its way completely through his flesh to stick in the wood below, pinning him down.

Still this woman did not stop. She held him down with her power, laughing at his pain and struggle. He couldn't move, and she was loving every moment.

"What's the matter?" she mocked through her laughter. "Son of the legendary Sparda? Indeed! Didn't your daddy teach you how to use a sword?"

That said, she broke her magic delivery and turned to the motorcycle beside her. Without strain or sweat, she jerked up the bike and raised it clear over her head, taking aim at Dante and then releasing the great weight to hurdle towards him in the air.

Despite his pain, he couldn't help but smile. _He knew some things that she didn't._

"Sword?" he questioned laughingly. "_Right._ Time to go to work guys."

The cycle may as well have been flying through the air in slow motion for as fast as Dante drew his guns. He had made them himself, one black, one white – Ebony and Ivory. His trigger fingers connecting furiously, he shot at the cycle with such force and speed that it halted in the air. Then, raising his legs, he sent a mighty kick into the tattered metal, sending the bike back towards the demon woman.

She gasped in surprise and jumped out of the way quickly as the bike crashed down in a metallic crunch. _What?_ So, it was true. He _was_ who he claimed – the one she had been searching for…

She lifted her head, looking up at him through her shades as he walked towards her, guns in hands – the swords still sticking forth from his heart. She marveled at these events, scooting back a few inches on the floor as he approached. He was more than she had fathomed he would be.

"I've always had powers," he said casually. "Even when I was a child."

"The blue blood is indeed in you," she said, still awestruck.

Raising his hand, he began to slowly slide the sword from his flesh, summoning blood from the deep wound that was soaked up into his long coat.

"What strength…" she muttered in amazement, completely taken by his powers. She moved not from the ground, only waited. What would he do next? There was fear within her, yet a great excitement raged through her.

"That's right," he said cockily. "Just try not to cream all over the rug, honey. It's imported."

"You'd kill me without question? You're not even interested in why I came?" she asked, watching as he readied the gun of white.

"What else do I need to know? You were the first demon to know about my lust for vengeance," he said, throwing the sword down to stick in the floorboards, then raising his gun to point between her eyes. "Looks like I'm getting close to finding the right one."

She said nothing a moment as she stared up at him from the floor. He paused as well as he stared, his gaze still locked upon her. He was normally called a ruthless killer. He felt nothing for demons, but there was something about this one. Something seemed… _different…_

He didn't remove his aim, but neither did he move to stop her when she began to rise.

"It may seem that way," she said. "But I'm not your enemy. My name is Trish."

"Trish," he said thoughtfully. "And putting us on a first name basis makes your death more personal?"

She turned back to him, removing her glasses to reveal two lovely white eyes, surrounded with heavy black liner.

"I am _not_ your enemy," she repeated. "But I do know something that may concern you."

"And what would that be? Aside from my demolished bike or the fact that you broke my doors?"

"It's about one you seek your revenge against," she said. "The killer of your mother and brother. He's returning."

"You know who he is?" he asked, a bit surprised, but still relentless with the trigger.

"Of course I know," she said. "He is a high power in the Underworld."

"And why should I trust you?" he demanded.

She turned to face him, taking a few steps closer to the end of his gun and staring at him with her cold eyes.

"Because we are the same, of course. We are of demon descent."

"I am nothing like you," he said firmly. "You are Underworld-shit…"

"And you are the hunter," she finished for him. "How true."

She touched the gun in his hand and pushed it aside to point away from her. He allowed this, but knew his was quick with the draw. If she overstepped her boundaries, or said something he didn't like…

"Do you think that I would come here with any true intent of opposing you?" she asked. "You are the chosen. The prodigy. You may deny your heritage, but you have your father's blood. You are the one that will save us."

She was close enough that he could feel her breath against his face, warm, sticky, like a humid summer breeze, yet not unpleasant. She crept closer, leaning in to his ear, brushing her warm skin against his face. He could feel her hands, creeping up his chest to his shoulders.

She whispered in his ear, her voice low and husky.

"You know the name don't you?" she asked. "_Mundus…_"

_Mundus…_

This name sent a wave of anger coursing through him. _2000 years… and he shall awaken…_ That was the prophecy. Dante was soon lost in his own thoughts, but Trish pulled herself away, exchanging her warm body against him for her eyes' cool stare into his.

"You deny what you are, yet you flaunt your powers. You cannot help what you are…"

Trish took a slender hand and brushed away the white hair that rested over his left eye, revealing a shining white eye, like hers, beside his other blue-gray one.

He stared back at her, pondering, _questioning_. Could these things be true? Could she be trusted? After several moments of her piercing gaze, he pulled her hand away, letting the soft hair fall back into place.

"I'll give you the chance to tell me more," he said. "Whether or not I'll believe you will then be my choice…and confirm your death."

She smiled, sliding the sunglasses back on her face.

"You've heard of Mundus," she said. "The dark prince that your father defeated and bound 2000 years ago. As we speak an army of his minions are rebuilding a castle on Mallet Island, preparing for his return. He is bound there and on the island is the gate to the Underworld and he will be resurrected."

"Who sent you?" he asked suddenly.

"No one has sent me," she assured him. "I have come on my own to seek your help – to put an end to the Underworld."

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "What kind of rebel demon would stand against Mundus again? Betraying your own kind?"

"Your father did it," she said, glancing briefly at Dante's poster display. "Why can't it happen again?"

"And you want me to go and defeat a demon prince who may or may_ not_ get resurrected, because he'll possibly take over the human world?" he asked.

"Mundus _is_ coming back!" she snapped quickly.

"Hey," he warned. There was no way he was letting her get too cocky.

"Forgive me," she said, humoring him. "If you do not go, we will not be able to stop it. After the dark prince awakens, he will surely conquer all. He plans to resurrect mighty demon warriors of the past, slain by your father. The fall of humanity is…inevitable."

"And so it's on my shoulders?" he asked. "That's what you're telling me?"

She laughed lightly.

"I think you know the answer to that," she said. "It is your choice. I will see you to the island if you so choose."

Trish then looked to him with the highest admiration.

"You have the strength of your father and the goodness of your mother. I don't believe you can truly walk away."

Dante took a deep breath. Though he was unsure of this demon or if he could trust her, she seemed to be serious. Besides, if this was a chance to get his revenge on the one who killed his mother and brother…

"Alright," he said. "Take me there."


End file.
